


You're the electricity running through my feathers

by Qpenguin98



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Bondage, Canon Asexual Character, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Oral Sex, Overstimulation, Safewords, Trans Character, Trans Jonathan Sims, Trans Tim Stoker (The Magnus Archives), Vaginal Fingering, Vibrators, set in some nebulous Season 3 timeline where thye actually talk to each other, sometimes you just get an idea and this happens
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-13
Updated: 2020-04-13
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:27:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,314
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23628424
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Qpenguin98/pseuds/Qpenguin98
Summary: “Comfortable?” Tim asks him, tugging at the rope around his wrists. Jon makes a face, twisting his hands.“Not exactly,” he says, but that’s the point. He doesn’t want to be comfortable. He doesn’t want to feel good.
Relationships: Jonathan Sims/Tim Stoker
Comments: 21
Kudos: 335





	You're the electricity running through my feathers

“Comfortable?” Tim asks him, tugging at the rope around his wrists. Jon makes a face, twisting his hands.

“Not exactly,” he says, but that’s the point. He doesn’t want to be comfortable. He doesn’t want to feel _good_. He just wants to feel something other than the overwhelming tenseness sitting at the top of his spine.

Which is where Tim comes in.

“Perfect,” he says, flashing a grin with too many teeth. He pats his wrists one last time, making sure they’re secured to the headboard before sitting back. He doesn’t look happy, but he doesn’t look upset, which is a step up from what it’s been. “Remember your colors?”

“It’s not as though I’ll need to use them,” Jon says a bit petulantly. Tim’s brow furrows.

“Thought we agreed, boss,” he says, and his voice is a bit steely. “I’m not doing this unless you take that seriously.”

“Oh for— I _am_ taking them seriously.” Jon sits up as best he can, which is really just craning his neck up off of the pillows it’s resting on. His legs are tied, which, coupled with the wrists, limits his movements quite a bit. “Green yellow red. I just don’t think I’ll really need to use them.”

“Well you’ll at least be using green,” Tim tells him, resting a hand on his hip. “I’m checking in, regardless of whether you think you need it or not. This is how it works, Jon. You use them if you need to.”

“Alright,” he says, and he wants it to be harsh but it comes out quiet. Tim sighs and rubs the hand at his hip up his waist. There’s a prickle in Jon’s stomach at that, but he bites the inside of his cheek, tamps it down. Nothing’s even happened. There’s a bit of a sting in his wrists from twisting them against the rope, a curling in his gut at the prospect of what comes next, but nothing’s happened. There’s no point in him reacting like some teenager at a touch that means nothing.

“Right,” Tim says. His shoulders untense and Jon feels marginally better. Tim’s thumb swipes over a worm scar at his ribs, and he can’t help the shiver that passes through him at the sensation. He pauses and smiles, doing the action again. “Right, then.”

Jon gives him a withering look, but Tim’s already reaching up and plucking the glasses from his face, setting them on the bedside table. His vision goes fuzzy, but he can still see the shape of Tim’s face leaning over him, mouth twisted into a smile.

“Drink it in, Jon, because you’re about to be in the dark for quite a while.” Jon sees the blurry image of Tim waving what has to be the blindfold in his hand.

“Are you going to drag the entire thing out this long?” he asks with a raised eyebrow.

“Not so sure that you’re in the position to be pushy,” Tim says, but he relents and brings it down, lifting Jon’s head to slip it over his eyes. Even though he knew it was coming, it’s sudden, the darkness that it brings. It does its job very well, Jon can’t see a single thing, eyes squinted open against the fabric. He gives up fairly quickly, closing them and breathing.

“Alright?”

“Fine,” Jon says, forcing his body to relax. Tim’s hand is back down at his waist, thumb rubbing a stipe over the scars again, and he focuses on that sensation, the sound of the shifting bedframe as he gets comfortable. He’s not alone. He lets himself sink into the darkness. Lets it become comfortable.

Tim’s mouth finds his throat and Jon’s hands spasm. His teeth scrape against the skin there and he bites his tongue. His hand snakes down, rests against the waistband of the old pair of boxers he’s wearing. The fabric is thinned with age and he wore them specifically because he doesn’t care what happens to them. The idea of getting tied up completely naked to begin with had turned in his head over and over until Tim made the point that he could just cut the underwear off and he’d finally relaxed.

“You know,” Tim says against his collarbone. His breath is hot and Jon bites his tongue harder. His tone is dark, heavy. “I could do whatever I wanted to you right now. Like sure, you asked me to tie you up and make you lose your absolute mind, but who’s actually got the control in this situation?”

His nails dig into the soft skin of his stomach and Jon’s spine arches minutely. He can feel his lips quirk against him, knows he’s noting it in his brain to use for later. He shifts, lips coming to press against his temple.

“Not you,” Tim whispers. “That’s for damn sure.”

Jon’s mouth falls open and Tim takes immediate advantage of it, sucking his tongue into his mouth. Jon’s absolutely vibrating at this point, high stung, unable to see, only able to hear and feel and it’s agonizing. He can barely reciprocate anything, body tied in place, and he kisses back sloppily.

Tim keeps kissing him while he swings his legs over him, resting his weight on his hips. He scrapes light nails down his sides and Jon shifts impatiently. Feels the huff of a laugh against his lips when Tim pulls back.

“Squirmy, aren’t we,” he says, and there’s a bite to his tone that makes Jon just a bit wary of saying anything back.

“You really are going to drag it out,” he settles for, and Tim leans back, careful not to press too much of his weight on him.

“Jonathan Sims, when are you going to understand that you’re not in control here?”

“When you do something to make me realize it,” he bites back, and Tim is quiet for a moment. Then he laughs.

“Fine,” he says lightly, and then there’s nails pressing harshly into his waist and teeth biting sharp at his jugular. He yelps but can’t move, and Tim simply moves down his neck before pulling the skin between his teeth again, raking his nails down his sides. Jon bucks up but Tim’s hips press him down with ease.

“A-Ah,” Jon manages and all he gets is a laugh in return. The bites move down his throat to his chest, and Tim licks at the soft swell, pulling a nipple between his lips gently. The sensation shoots down his abdomen and he can feel the wetness gathering.

He sucks at him softly, thumbs rubbing circles in his hips, and Jon’s rutting up against nothing when the sensation turns painful very quickly, Tim biting at his nipple and pressing his fingers into his skin with bruising strength. Jon lets out a startled cry, unable to keep it back, and Tim laves his tongue soothingly over the bite. He moves to the other one, giving it the same tender treatment before the sting takes over. Jon’s jaw is shaking, mouth hung open.

Tim moves next, shifts to the side to presumably have better access to the rest of his body. His hand comes down to play at the waistband again, dipping just under the elastic.

“Color?” Tim asks, and it takes Jon a moment to remember what exactly he means by that.

“Green,” Jon says, and he means for it to come out annoyed, but it just leaves him breathlessly. He can practically see the smirk aimed at him, but Tim’s hand dips below the fabric before he can focus on it too hard.

“When’s the last time you fucked?” he asks him, and it’s a lot to make his brain create an answer to that when his fingers come to rest on either side of his dick, rubbing it in small clockwise circles.

“A-Ahhh, uhm, a few years?” The fingers slip further, gathering some wetness before coming back to their previous placement. “I told you, it’s not something I really do, but I’ve just been—”

“Off the fucking walls bonkers lately, believe me, I know,” Tim interrupts, and that’s definitely not how he would have phrased it, but it works he supposed. He must make a face because Tim laughs. “Come on, boss, that’s hardly the worst way I could’ve phrased that. Let’s see. Absolutely psychotic. A hazard to yourself and others. Dangerous and cryptic and _rude_.”

He punctuates this point by shoving two fingers inside of him, and Jon stiffens, throat locking down on the sound it almost made. He allows him a moment to acclimate to the feeling before diving in deeper, seemingly searching for something until—

“Aha,” he says, self satisfied as Jon lets out a keen. He presses his fingers against that spot and rubs in circles, and Jon’s hands jump against the rope. It presses painfully against his wrists, rubbing into them what he’s sure are bound to be very visible marks, but it gives him something to focus on other than the overwhelming heat flooding his body. His face feels on fire, and he can feel his dick straining for any sort of contact, but Tim keeps his hand artfully away, only allowing him the feeling of his body catching flame as he presses harder and deeper and faster.

“I-I can’t, ple- _ase Tim_ ,” he pleads, but Tim just hums and continues the agonizing press of his fingers inside of him. Jon tries to grind his body down only any free part of Tim’s hand, but he’s playing an excellent game of keep away. His brain’s turning more and more to mush with each second that passes, and it’s what he’d wanted, but good _lord_ he didn’t realize his body could feel this hot.

Eventually, blessedly, the sensation gets to be too much and he comes with a bitten back cry. Tim doesn’t let up, if anything presses into him more, and he tries to jerk away but to no avail. He sucks in a short gasp of air and strains against the ropes at his ankles and can do nothing more than drink in the sensation of too much and not enough all at the same time.

He thinks he might actually burn through his skin, blood boiling under the surface. He sucks a nipple back into his mouth and Jon’s feet scrabble against their restraints.

He comes again very shortly and this time Tim lets up, pulling his fingers out slowly. Jon whines at the loss, hips falling back onto the mattress from where he didn’t realize he was holding them up.

“There,” Tim says. “Will that stop you from whining that I’m dragging things out?”

He processes the words slowly and nods, licking his lips to rewet them. He hears a huff of a laugh and Tim pulls his hand from his boxers entirely.

“I’d say it’s about time we get these off, yeah?”

“Yes,” Jon agrees quietly.

He feels Tim shift and then feels the cold brush of the scissors against his thigh. He jumps, just a bit, but Tim holds his hips down all the same. The snip of the scissors is deafening, and Tim ends up only cutting one leg, shoving the still whole one down to tangle with the ankle rope.

There’s nothing for a very long moment, and Jon almost gathers the ability to ask what he’s doing when he feels a tongue lick at him. A strangled moan leaves his mouth as Tim’s lips close around him, tongue flicking at his dick in the enclosed space. It doesn’t go away, he just sucks at him with more power, presses his tongue in circles against him firmer, and shoves his hips down every time he tries to buck up and away. His orgasm crashes over him in waves this time, pulling a high pitched drawn out noise from his throat as Tim licks him through the aftershocks.

He pulls away from him, hands still resting on his hips, and Jon heaves in a breath. Tim allows him a moment to recover, lets him catch his bearings that are getting harder and harder to keep a hold of, before he speaks again.

“You didn’t taste half bad,” he says jokingly, and Jon can help the stream of giggles he lets out. It feels a little hysterical, but he’s a bit past caring at this point. He relaxes into the mattress as Tim takes the time to get ready for whatever it is he’d planned next.

There’s shuffling, a small but audible sound of victory, and then more shuffling.

“Green?” He asks, and Jon nods.

“Very much so,” he says, and his voice sounds fuzzy in his ears.

“Good.” It’s gentle, maybe not meant for him to hear, but it brings a shaky smile to his lips regardless.

There’s a click and a buzz and then too much sensation against his cock very quickly. He arches, gasping, and Tim just presses it against him harder. He lets out a shout, doing his best to pull his body away from the vibrator but it does nothing. Two fingers press into him, thrusting up and into him unforgivingly, and Jon shakes.

It takes the press of fingers to the spot inside of him, a mouth over his nipple, and the punishing buzz of the vibrator all together to push him over the edge, coming with a weak “ah— ah ah a-ah.”

The problem becomes very apparent when Tim does nothing to let up on him and Jon sobs from too much sensation sending pinpricks all over his body.

“I-It’s too much, please stop, _stop¸_ Tim don’t d-d-don’t I can’t.”

“Oh but I think you can,” he says, fingers driving into him as he changes the angle of the vibrator, pushing a cry out of him and his dick throbs from overstimulation.

“I can’t I can’t I can’t,” he pleads, pulling short shallow breaths in whenever the sensation lets up enough for him to do so. The blind fold is wet against his eyes, and oh god he’s crying. The thought sends a shudder through him and Tim chooses that moment to flip the vibrator to the highest setting.

He screams as he comes, clenching hard against his fingers and pulling against the rope at his wrists so hard that the bedframe groans. Tim pulls back, pulls his fingers out and the vibrator away and Jon sucks in a lungful of air before his fingers spread all skin as far as he can away from his dick and grinds the vibrator back down onto him.

Jon loses himself in the sensation of _too much too much too much_ , and somewhere far away in his brain he registers he’s making a long drawn out noise and that his wrists ache from the pressure of the ropes. It lasts forever and he’s not quite sure that he’s breathing by the time Tim pulls the vibrator back, but his body sags, trembling against the sheets.

He gets a moment of reprieve before it’s placed back, lighter this time, almost off of him, resting on the bed and angled up to hit him. He keens and hears Tim laugh.

“I could just leave you like this,” he says, voice amused. Jon feels his stomach curdle at the thought and shakes his head. “I should, honestly. Might serve you right. Do you some good, some time alone to think.”

“No,” he breathes out. “Please.”

“I think I will,” he decides, pressing the vibrator more against him and stand up from the bed. Jon’s fingertips feel numb, body jittery. “I’ll be back when I think you’ve had enough time.”

Jon doesn’t hear him walk away, but he’s not sure he can hear anything over the rush of blood in his ears. He pulls at the restraints, tries to get out, only manages to press himself down further. He squeaks, sensation too much in a very not good way.

“Tim—,” he cuts himself off, trying to rationalize. There’s no way he’d leave him. But he’d be justified, he’d be right to, he has plenty of due cause. “Wait, don’t—”

He gasps, jaw shaking, hands shaking, body shaking, tries to center himself. This feels very not good. He doesn’t want this. He can’t handle this, he—

“Red, no, fuck, no, yellow? Not green. N-Not green, not—”

Everything clicks off and a hand comes to rest on his shoulder, bed dipping under the weight. He jumps before relaxing.

“What’s wrong,” Tim asks, hands cupping his neck. Jon breathes in, relieved, takes a moment to feel the skin on skin, hear the sharp edge of his breathing. “ _Jon_.”

“Don’t leave,” he manages out, and Tim curses under his breath.

“I won’t, I’m not. I’m right here.” He sounds angry at himself and Jon wants to raise a hand and comfort him but he’s still stuck to the bedpost. It’s comforting, almost, the inability to do anything, to just feel his thigh pressed against his torso and his hands cradling his jaw. “Do you need me to untie you?”

“No,” he says, breathing slowly. “No that’s fine. I’m fine with all of it just do not leave me alone like this.”

“I won’t,” Tim says gently, brushing his cheek with his thumb. “Do you want a second?”

“Please.”

They stay like that for a few minutes, Jon calming his body down and Tim staying in close contact with him the whole time. It’s nice, and once his mind has stopped panicking it drops into something soft and fuzzy.

“Alright,” he says finally. “I’m good.”

“Are you sure?” Tim sounds unsure of himself.

“I’m sure.”

“Because if you’re not we can just—”

“ _Tim,_ ” he snaps, and Tim stops talking. “You trusted me enough to use words if I needed to and I did. If you need us to stop that’s fine, but I’m alright now. I’ll… I’ll talk about it after with you, but for now I’m perfectly okay to keep going.”

It’s quiet for a moment before Tim lets out a laugh, squeezing his shoulder. “You’re better at this than I expected.”

“Not sure that was a compliment, but thank you.”

“Alright,” Tim says, and Jon can hear the small smile in his voice. “Two more things, yeah? I wanna fuck you, if I can.”

“Thought that’s what we were doing.”

“Yeah, but I wanna _fuck_ you,” Tim says, and it clicks.

“Ah, yes. Yeah. I think… please.”

“Since you asked so nicely,” Tim says, and there’s some shifting, one part of his body in contact with Jon the whole time. There’s a rustling, the clink of a buckle, and then Tim’s leaning over him, the cool feeling of slicked up silicone pressing gently against his entrance.

“Good to go?”

“Fuck me,” Jon asks, clenching at the massive amount of nothing inside of him at the moment. Another second and then Tim pushes inside of him slowly. Jon rolls his hips down onto it, biting his lip as he’s filled so achingly slow.

“Does, ah, does this do anything for you?” Jon asks as Tim gives him time to adjust, thrusting shallowly into him.

“Some,” Tim tells him. “Feels nice, looks nice, I come from it sometimes. For now it’s about making sure you’re thoroughly fucked out.”

“Well we’re never getting there at this pace.” Jon motions to him with his chin and Tim sighs. Jon’s afraid he’s misspoken before Tim pulls back and absolutely slams back into Jon. He snaps his neck back, fisting his hands, and moans.

“Better?” Tim snarks. Jon can’t find the words as a thrust grinds right against that spot inside of him and he curls up chasing after the feeling. Tim must notice because he angles himself to hit it as much as possible. Jon feels that heat spreading over his body again and whimpers.

“Christ, Jon. You should see yourself. You’re an absolute mess like this,” Tim says before leaning down to kiss him messily. Jon can barely kiss back but it’s fine because Tim seems more than a little distracted, letting out little moans against his lips.

He reaches a hand down and rubs harshly at his cock, still ramming against that spot inside of him with every thrust, and Jon comes with barely a shiver running through him, body too exhausted to do much else. Tim fucks him through it, getting more and more erratic as he rolls his hips more, chasing his own orgasm. It comes over him a minute or so later, Jon’s body twitching from the overstimulation as Tim grinds into him and comes, pressing his face into the curve of his neck and shoulder.

It’s a long second before he moves, pulling out slowly as Jon’s mouth falls a bit further open at the sensation.

“I want,” Tim begins, voice breathy, split with him sucking kisses into Jon’s neck. “You. To eat me out.”

“I’m a bit out of practice,” he jokes, and Tim swats him. He laughs airily. “But I would be very willing to give it my best try.”

“Good, because I wasn’t asking,” he says, but the harshness is gone from his voice. He sits up and away from Jon and presumably takes the strap off, setting it somewhere to deal with later. He crawls his way up Jon’s body, resting his thighs on either side of his head and arms.

“Snap if you need me off,” he says before lowering himself onto Jon’s mouth.

He’s absolutely soaked, and Jon laps him with an unpracticed tongue, but from the noise Tim makes it doesn’t seem to matter. He curls his tongue up and into him as far as he can, pressing against his walls, and Tim grinds down on his face, leaving mess on his lips and chin. Jon can’t seem to bring himself to care.

He wraps his lips around Tim’s dick, sucks him into his mouth harshly, hears him swear and thunk his head against the wall. He does his best with no hands, mouth clumsily laving over him and sucking him in to try and make him come.

It doesn’t seem to take long, Tim’s thighs tightening around him before he swears, groaning and fucking himself down into Jon’s mouth. Jon lets himself be used, feels his own dick give a throb in the effort of getting turned on again, and allows Tim to fuck his face until he’s finished, pulling back shakily.

“Fuck,” Tim says breathlessly.

“Seconded,” Jon says. He feels warm and melty like ice cream left out in the sun.

“Oh god, gimme a second before you go all droppy on me,” he says, maneuvering around. He works on the ropes around his wrists first, rubbing feeling back into his palms as he pulls them away. Takes the blindfold off second. Jon leaves his eyes closed, a bit afraid of opening his eyes to bright light. His ankles are last, but eventually he’s all untied, lying limp on Tim’s bed, body fuzzing into nothingness.

“The lights are off, you can open your eyes,” Tim says quietly, and Jon cracks them open to find he’s spoken the truth. “I’m grabbing a washcloth, be right back.”

It doesn’t seem like any time at all passes before he’s back again, wiping at his mouth and crotch, cleaning him off. A glass of water is pressed to his lips and he gulps it down greedily. Tim manhandles his floppy limbs into a too big t shirt and rolls him under covers, joining him in his own shirt and shorts a moment later. The dim lighting makes him look softer, and Jon allows him to card a hand through his hair, press a hand down his spine, place a kiss on his temple.

He drifts for a while, but comes back eventually. He looks up at Tim, pushes himself onto his shoulders as Tim looks at him.

“Hello,” Jon says smartly, and Tim doesn’t quite smile.

“Hello yourself.”

“Was that good for you?”

“Mostly. Bad in the middle,” Tim says, looking away. His voice is harsh when he speaks again. “I’m sorry”

“Not your fault. I knew… I knew, reasonably, that you wouldn’t leave. Just the— the tying up and being left alone. Not the biggest fan of it.”

“I know,” he says, voice bitter. “I know, you don’t have to explain away why you were upset, Jon. I shouldn’t have said it in the first place.”

“If I recall,” Jon says, eyelids heavy as he fixes Tim with a Look. “We used the color system for a reason. I used it, it worked out. There’s no reason for you to beat yourself up over something you wouldn’t have known. It worked out, Tim. It was good. It… I feel much calmer.”

Tim tilts his head and looks at him, considering. He finally snorts and turns away, grimace peaking out the side of his face.

“I’m glad it did what you wanted. You gonna stop acting like such a basket case at work?”

“Probably not, but I might be a little less manic for the next few days, so enjoy it while you can.”

“You’re unbearable,” Tim says, and Jon moves his hand to poke at him and hisses. They ache more than he thought they would, but it’s good. He presses a thumb into the unformed bruise and feels the sharp pain lance around his wrist. “Do you want ice?”

“No, I’m fine for now,” Jon says, and it’s the truth. “I… If I could—”

“Yeah, Jon, you can sleep here. Christ, you think I’m kicking you out all sea legs like this? Get some rest, boss.”

“Mm,” he says tiredly. “Thank you.”

“Really don’t mention it,” Tim says, and Jon gets comfortable, nose pressing into his side, Tim’s hand still in his hair.

“Still thank you,” he says before dropping off, and he swears he hears it repeated back to him before he’s taken by oblivion.

**Author's Note:**

> listen, this wasn't supposed to happen, but now it's here and i have nothing to say for myself.
> 
> please comment if you liked!


End file.
